Cherchez la Femme
by Adamantwrites
Summary: In Baltimore, Adam meets a mysterious, enchanting woman who may bring danger into his and his family's life. But to him, she is...intriguing. Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Is this table to your approval, sir?" the maître'd asked.

"Yes, fine, thank you." Adam sat down; he could never get used to having his chair pulled out for him.

Tonight was his last night in Baltimore and since he was still dressed in a well-tailored suit from his meeting that day with the railroad executives to seal the deal on Ponderosa timber for the line extension, he decided to treat himself to another fine meal in the best restaurant in the city. He had enjoyed a fine meal there the night before that was paid for by the line president, so he wanted to eat again but this time alone. Having people around and having to keep up his end of the conversations often drained him and he found himself mentally exhausted after a long business trip as this one had been and now, he just wanted to be alone to savor the filet mignon that he planned to order.

"Wine list, sir?" the maitre'd asked, the waiter hovering behind him.

"Just bring me a carafe of one of your best."

"Yes, sir." The maître'd turned to the waiter who nodded and then left. The maître'd told Adam to enjoy his meal and then with a small bow, left. He remembered Mr. Cartwright from the night before and hoped that he would spend money as the group he had been with the night before had done.

Adam sat back, relieved to be alone and then he saw her, the woman from the night before.

Adam and his group were having a pleasant enough time and one of the men, the procurement administrator was telling a story about how he was once tricked into purchasing sawdust instead of finished ties when Adam, from his vantage point of being able to see the whole room, saw a lovely woman being led to a table. Adam was immediately attracted to her as she seemed to have a way of moving that invited a man's attention. And she had his. He watched as she sat alone yet she didn't seem the least bit self-conscious. After a quarter of an hour a man appeared and took a seat at her table. What Adam noticed was that the woman didn't smile at him and the man didn't take her gloved hand or lean in to kiss her cheek before he sat. Adam was sure they weren't romantically involved but the man kept pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow. The woman even seemed to find him distasteful. Adam concurred that the man represented someone else as the woman had looked as if to see if anyone else was with him.

Adam's attention was drawn back into the conversation but as soon as his response wasn't needed, he resumed watching he couple at the other table. When the waiter came over, the woman ordered for herself—that being a breach of etiquette-while the man shook his head, no, as if he wanted nothing. Then the woman glanced over at Adam and an odd expression came over her face; her mouth opened slightly.

For a moment Adam was taken by surprise; she held his gaze and Adam became disturbed by the sensuality of her face, her full, red lips and her dark eyes—her high cheekbones that gave her a foreign look. That was it—she reminded him of a Cossack and she was probably as cold-blooded as they were reputed to be. She seemed to know what Adam thought of her. Adam nodded slightly in recognition of her glance and then she quickly looked away, raising her chin in disdain and turning her attention to the man. To Adam, the man seemed to be pleading, begging and once the woman laughed derisively and smiled as if enjoying the discomfiture of her companion. She repeatedly shook her head or said no to the man's pleadings and then he rose, red-faced and angry with her and stormed out of the restaurant.

The people at the tables around the beautiful woman turned to look and behaved as if they were embarrassed to be a witness to the man's anger and yet the woman seemed nonplussed and when the waiter brought her the ordered meal, she began to eat. Adam watched the elegantly way she handled the knife and fork but after a few bites, she called for the waiter who bowed and scraped to her and escorted her out of the restaurant. Adam was sorry to see her go but apparently, at least to him, it seemed that she was upset—very upset at whatever had passed between her and the man and she had tried to not reveal the depth of her agitation.

The dark-haired woman intrigued him and so far this trip, he hadn't met any interesting women except for some of the men's wives, not having the time to visit a brothel even though in the past he had spent many a pleasant hour in one. But Adam had to admit that he had enjoyed watching the mysterious female walk away; the swaying of her full hips in the tightly-swathed skirt of her dress seemed to gesture to him to follow, promising delights to come. And then, just before she would be completely gone from his view, the woman had glanced back at him and a small smile played on her lips. Adam held his breath, watching the duration of two heartbeats before she turned and was gone.

And here the woman was again, sitting in the same restaurant and alone. Tonight she was dressed to attract a man-Adam was sure of that, and if she intended the man to be him, she was successful.

Adam called the waiter over. "That beautiful lady in the green gown. Who is she?"

"That, sir, is Lady Stockbridge." The waiter hadn't even had to look to know about whom Adam was asking.

"Lady Stockbridge?"

"Yes, sir. She often dines here but usually she is escorted." The waiter cleared his throat. "Her escort is sometimes, um, often a prominent government or public figure."

"Send her a glass of wine—what I'm drinking-with my compliments." Adam grinned; his assessment about her had been correct.

"Very good, sir."

Adam watched while the waiter walked over and informed Lady Stockbridge of his offer. When the waiter pointed him out for Lady Stockbridge, Adam raised his glass as a toast to her but she didn't return his smile, just dismissed the waiter with a comment and a wave of her elegantly gloved hand. Adam noticed the ruby and diamond bracelet on her wrist over the glove; it glistened and sparkled in the light cast by the chandeliers.

The waiter came back quickly. "I am sorry, sir. The Lady declines; she says it is no better than dishwater—that it was a bad year for French wine—not cold enough that winter."

Adam laughed deeply and the people nearest him glanced over. Even Lady Stockbridge looked to him.

"Ask her what year she approves of—I'll buy her a whole bottle—a whole vineyard-if she'll deign to let me join her." Adam waited, grinning. He watched the waiter talk in an obsequious manner to the woman and then, Adam saw her almost imperceptibly nod and the waiter came back.

"The Lady says that she would be delighted to have you join her as she is dinning alone tonight. But, sir, she has chosen a very expensive wine."

"Bring it to the table," Adam said standing up. "Oh, and for your trouble." Adam handed the waiter two silver dollars. "Cupid himself couldn't have done better," he told the waiter as he headed for Lady Stockbridge's table. And Adam noticed that she steadily watched him, assessing him with each approaching step. Adam smiled to himself; this was going to be quite the adventure.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**NB: Cherchez la femme means "Look for the woman." The implication is that at the root of a man's problems-or basically any issue, is a woman. I have also been slightly influenced by Sherlock Holmes' ability to deduce and given some of that talent to Adam; Adam of course can't remain as detached as Holmes nor do I believe that I am as good at mystery as Conan Doyle-I would never be that presumptuous.**

**A small request: If a reader is generous enough to review, please do not give away the denouement as a spoiler. **

**Chapter 2 **

Adam slowly woke up; he still felt warm and filled with a sense of well-being from the night. He opened his eyes and looked over to where Lady Stockbridge, Giselle, had lain but the bedclothes had been thrown back and she was gone; there was just the indentation of her head on the pillow. Adam sat up and listened but there was no sound from the bath. He glanced around and there was nothing tangible left by her from the night before except the fragrance of her perfume on the sheets and pillow case. The scent brought all the memories of Giselle, back to him, of her hot, demanding mouth and her sinuous arms and full, lush hips and thighs. He sighed as he closed his eyes and pictured her soft face after satisfaction.

Giselle had enticed him to join him at the restaurant—he was certain that she had planned it, that it had been intentional. Adam remembered how she had looked at him when he was dining with the railroad men and that she had returned to the same restaurant at about the same time, certain that he would as well. She had taken a chance. They had drunk quite a bit of champagne at the restaurant—at least he had. When he considered it, Giselle only had two glasses. Adam had told Giselle that he was more intoxicated by her beauty than by the wine and she had laughed and allowed him to kiss her white arm above her long glove and when they had risen to leave, allowed him to place a kiss on her shoulder that was bared by the neck of her gown. And she had looked up at him and smiled oddly.

The waiter had come over then and nervously asked if there was anything else they required. Adam glanced at Giselle who said, "No. There is nothing more I desire, Adam, except my cape." So they had left and Adam brought Giselle back to his hotel room where he had enjoyed her company and her body. And now she was gone. Giselle had protested slightly about returning to his hotel room—after all she had asked, what did he think she was? And then Adam had laughed and she feigned insult. "I know what you are," he had said as he moved his mouth up her neck and held her by the waist in the hackney cab. "You are a most desirable, beautiful woman and if I am right—having had a bit of experience in life, I would say that you're a courtesan—a most enticing, tantalizing one." She started to respond, to protest but Adam kissed her and with that kiss, with his mouth over hers, he dominated her. She melted in his embrace and Adam knew that she was going to stay with him, if not the whole night, at least for a few memorable hours. And he would see that they were memorable for her as well.

In the morning light though, Adam wondered if he had made the best choice last night. And he also realized that Giselle had more than likely manipulated him—not that he was protesting. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the stubble on his face and felt the urge to void. He would have to shave and then—finally—he could put on his casual ranch clothes for the train ride to Carson City. Although he knew that he was treated with more respect when he wore a suit, he was tired of starched collars and sleeves, hems on pants and stiff dress shoes. And he wanted to trade the derby, which all railroad men seemed to wear, for his Stetson. He stretched and smiled as he remembered Giselle-beautiful, desirable, enchanting, bewitching Giselle. She alone would be worth staying in Baltimore.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the room; he froze and stared-something was off. He looked at each section of the room, examining the areas to see what had been altered and then he knew—his jacket from the night before—it had been rearranged. He remembered having thrown it over the chair-back and being careful as his wallet was in the inside pocket but he noticed it had been moved and yet—and he smiled to himself, Giselle had made every attempt to replace it so that a less trained observer wouldn't even notice.

Adam shook his head in amusement. "You horse's ass," he told himself. Of course she would expect to be paid, he thought, and she was worth every penny she probably took and more. Giselle had never confirmed that she was a courtesan, never brought up money, but after last night, Adam was more than certain that she was. She knew ways to please him that he had never imagined so much as experienced. Yes, Giselle knew her way around a man's body and his psyche; she was the consummate professional. Adam walked over to his jacket, held it up and pulled out his wallet. He dropped the jacket and opened the wallet. The money seemed to be there. He pulled it out and counted it—all $1,200 was still there. He had spent a bit over two hundred last night at dinner with the expensive wine but other than that, all his money was intact. He pulled out his train ticket and his copy of the signed contract. Everything that should be there, was and it appeared that if she had been in his wallet, she had removed nothing. So, Adam asked himself, what did she want?

Adam was puzzled for a moment and then he smiled. "Of course," he said to himself. "And you thought it was your Cartwright charm that had won the beautiful Giselle. Vanity, vanity. Don't let it do you in again." And Adam went to bathe and shave; he had a train to catch and he decided to wear a suit. He wanted to look properly attired for Giselle as he was certain that she would be dressed to impress him—and every other man. And he had a stop to make on his way to the depot.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The train had pulled out of the depot and Adam, in his private compartment, watched the scenery pull away and then begin to pass at a quickening pace when the door opened. He looked up and there stood Giselle, gloriously beautiful. Adam grinned, stood, and motioned for her to enter; she did and her sweeping skirt rustled as she sat down and she placed a covered basket on the seat beside her. Adam took her gloved hand and kissed the back.

"I've been waiting for you," he said. "I hoped you would join me." He grinned at her and then chuckled at the look of surprise on her face which she quickly rearranged into one of complacency.

"Have you now?" she asked as she adjusted her skirts

"Yes—waiting an agonizingly long time until your beauteous self appeared." Adam grinned and Giselle looked up at him with disdain at his intentionally hyperbolic compliment. Adam sat down on the long padded seat across from her. "As a matter of fact and I have gift for you." Adam reached into his jacket's inside pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in silver paper and tied with a blue ribbon. "For you—in appreciation for last night—and for not robbing me before you disappeared leaving only your fragrance behind—your most delightful, arousing scent—and that of your perfume as well." The private compartment wasn't as large as the semi-private compartments but Adam like the intimacy.

Giselle smiled, knowing she had been bested and carefully untied the blue ribbon and then unfolded the wrapping paper. Adam watched her face closely as she opened the velvet covered steel box and saw her eyes widen slightly; he knew then that she was delighted not only at the set of earrings inside but also with the jeweler's name embossed on the inside of the lid.

She looked up at Adam, showing no emotion except appreciation of the jewelry's value. "They're quite beautiful—they must have cost you dearly."

"They're merely a token of my appreciation for your talents." A slight flush came over her face and her cheeks reddened slightly which made her all the more desirable; Adam was pleased that he had hit his target.

Giselle snapped the lid shut and dropped the box in her reticule but Adam knew the sapphire earrings would soon be enhancing her features enabling her to draw a man more deeply under her spell.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said, "but thank you for the gift."

"You know exactly what I mean," Adam said, sitting back to better observe her. He watched her closely. "You went through my wallet."

"Are you suggesting…"

"I'm not suggesting—I'm stating. You didn't want my money which I must admit has me confused, but you did want to validate that I was who I represented myself as being. The contract gave you my name and you rightly concurred that I am wealthy—more than likely powerful from my being fêted by the Transunion Railroad executives the night before. You knew who they were and that I wasn't one of them—the contract let you know that I wasn't a local. You also saw that I was leaving on the morning train and what compartment number I had. I deduced that you would show up and so, I bought the earrings which I felt would most flatter your ivory complexion and dark eyes; I kept your face in mind as I chose them. The diamonds will only accentuate your sharp cheekbones—you are a most exotic beauty, Lady Stockbridge."

"You're very clever, Mr. Cartwright—or at least you think you are."

"Ah, Lady. Stockbridge—although I doubt that's your true title or even if it is your name—you are a most intelligent woman and I'm positive that you arranged to be at the restaurant the same time as I. How? If of course, you don't mind telling me." Adam stretched one arm out the length of the back of his bench and lounged, waiting and watching her.

"It was simple," she stated. "After I left that first night—you are so easy to describe—tall, dark and dangerous looking, I sent my lady's maid to sit in a hack outside the restaurant. Then she followed you from the restaurant to the hotel. She asked for your name at the desk and for a small amount of coin, the clerk gave it. The next day, I paid another hack driver—handsomely, I must say since I demanded that he decline any other fares—to wait outside your hotel so that he could take you anywhere you desired—or follow you if you happened to take another conveyance. That evening after he delivered you to the restaurant, he came to fetch me and so we met."

"Very well done, Lady Stockbridge. Very well done, indeed. But what made you so certain that I would be alone and even if I were that I would ask to join you."

She laughed and Adam felt a warmth flood him. He knew she was manipulative and possibly a source of danger and yet…he was entranced by her. He told himself to keep up his guard. "I knew that you would join me even if you were with another woman—after the way you looked at me the night before…" she leaned forward slightly, "I knew that you wanted me. The rest was simple."

"The rest was wonderful," Adam added. "And are you going to stay in Carson City?"

"No," she said. "I thought I would go on to Virginia City, my lady's maid and I."

"Ah, let me guess. She is in a passenger car and in charge of the luggage, correct?"

She smiled. "Absolutely."

"And have you chosen to stay with me?" Adam asked. "After all, we have quite a way yet to Carson City and although I have a novel, I find you a greater work of art than anything crafted by an author—and far more enjoyable."

"Thank you for the invitation," Lady Stockbridge said. "I do prefer being here with you. And if you will pull the shades on the corridor windows, I have an idea how we can pleasantly spend some time before lunch. I have packed some wine and cheese, olives and bread. I will treat you to a delightful time."

Adam smiled, not missing the double meaning of her words, and then rising, pulled down the shades on the two small windows and the one in the door. Then he sat back down but he was determined not to close his eyes and enjoy her ministrations—it would be like turning your back on a panther; Lady Stockbridge couldn't be trusted not to pounce either and her claws were rarely sheathed.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Adam lifted Lady Stockbridge down from the railroad coach. The railroad line was now extended to Carson City since Nevada had become a state and Carson City confirmed its capitol. It was becoming a bustling city full of a sense of self-importance.

Adam and Lady Stockbridge had been inseparable on the train and although her maid, a young woman of about 17 years, came to the compartment door a few times, they were left alone to talk and entertain each other. Adam had accused her of pretense, of using "Lady" as a title and she had smiled and asked him what was wrong with that.

"Besides," she added, "it's not pretense, it just gives any man who chooses my company a chance to say that he was with Lady Stockbridge; it's for his sake—not mine." She raised her chin in defiance.

"Yes, I'm sure it is," Adam said with a grin. "And let me ask you, is Giselle your actual name?"

She paused for a moment and then quietly said, "Yes. I never should have told you—I don't know why I did. I so rarely have a moment of weakness." She was now sitting next to Adam, his arm around her and she had her head on his shoulder. He had been playing with her hair that had tumbled down during the night on the train. It seemed to Adam that with the curls falling around her shoulders and her clothing in disarray, she seemed younger, less sure of herself than when her hair wasn't so stylishly fashioned and her clothing wasn't carefully chosen and arranged.

"Why is that weakness? I think it was intentional." He stated, kissing the top of her head. She had an intoxicating scent about her, a warm smell, an odor that promised delights to any man near her—her scent alone could seduce him, he considered. "My guess is that you want something from me—something that is valuable—at least to you and therefore, you want to make yourself valuable to me. You're willing to demean yourself by catering to me sexually so that I will—what? Lose my heart to you? Is that what you're hoping for, Giselle? If you gave me your first name, I could then think of you as my lover, Giselle, instead of the courtesan lady Stockbridge. That's too cold for your intended machinations."

Giselle pulled away. "I do want something from you and I need bargaining power. And yet, you know something about me and I know very little about you." They gazed steadily at each other.

"I doubt that," Adam said. "I'm willing to wager that you know quite a bit about me—much more than what the contract in my wallet told you."

"All I discovered from the contract is that you're part owner of Ponderosa Enterprises, Ltd." Giselle smiled. Adam was going to be quite the adversary and a most delightful one; Giselle always enjoyed a challenge. "But you're right. I had luncheon with an old 'friend' of mine; his heart is bad anymore and he has lost the will for romance—fear of death has changed him immensely. So very sad. Not only has he lost the desire but the ability as well."

"That's probably because you stole his heart and stomped on it before you returned it, but I'm sure that you tried-how can I delicately put it—to rouse him?"

Giselle laughed delightedly and leaned in as if to kiss Adam's dimpled chin but nipped it lightly. "He was grateful for my efforts and when I asked, he gladly told me all he knew about you which, being a banker, was quite a bit. It seems that you and your father, Benjamin Cartwright, and your brothers Eric and Joseph Cartwright, own over a thousand square acres of prime timberland as well as silver mines and a recently discovered gold mine. Your family is very wealthy."

"And you do like money, don't you, Giselle." Adam stroked her smooth cheek. She reminded him of a cat purring contentedly, at least for the moment. But she was always on alert, her muscles tensed. She never even allowed herself to completely release herself to the pleasures of the body. In a manner, Adam felt protective of her; she must have had to survive by her wits to be constantly on the defensive.

"Yes. I do love money. It is, I have found, the most important thing in life."

"No, Giselle, my beauty—it isn't. But you wouldn't believe me if I told you otherwise." He took a deep breath. "Now what is it you want from me?"

"In time, Adam. In time." And she smiled coyly and Adam pulled her to him again; they still had quite a while before they reached Carson City and he knew how they could pleasantly pass the hours.

The porter piled Giselle's portmanteaus on the sidewalk beside her and her maid, Becky, stood behind Adam and her mistress. She looked around but was unimpressed with Carson City after having lived in Baltimore and being witness to what money and men with power could do. But she did understand, although Lady Stockbridge rarely took her into her confidence, that her mistress was in some type of trouble and that it was necessary that they leave Baltimore and go some distance. From what or whom they were escaping, Becky didn't know but wherever Lady Stockbridge went, so did she. So they stood on the wooden sidewalk of a dusty city and waited.

"Welcome home, son," Ben said as he approached Adam, his hand extended. And then he stopped, caught by the sight of the woman beside him.

"This," Adam said as he motioned toward Giselle, "is Lady Stockbridge."

"It's a pleasure," Ben said removing his hat. Although he had seen beautiful women before, knew many lovely actresses and socialites, Lady Stockbridge stirred his blood in ways he hadn't experienced for years. Ben took her proffered hand and kissed it.

Adam half-smiled. It was obvious to him that his father was struck by Giselle and it was as she had intended—that Adam knew. When they were close to Carson City, Giselle had partially put up her hair and intentionally left the top buttons of her traveling suit open. Adam noticed how attractive the hollow of her throat was framed by the open collar—it gave her a touch of vulnerability and a man could imagine placing a kiss there as she stretched her neck back in ecstasy. Adam also noticed when he kissed her throat—being unable to resist the milky flesh-that her pulse was fast; she was excited about something but on the outside she seemed cool and distant. Yet as she looked in the mirror that Becky held for her, Adam, watching her at her toilet, saw that her eyes were almost feverish.

Giselle had yet to tell Adam what she wanted and then it occurred to Adam that it may be because she hadn't quite decided whether to ask it of him or his father. So he watched carefully—not his father but Giselle-as his otherwise dignified father practically kneeled at her feet and offered to have her stay at the Ponderosa.

Adam said nothing but Giselle declined Ben's offer. But, she had added, if he would allow her to ride back with them to Virginia City, she would be appreciative. So Ben loaded her luggage, Adam standing idly by, and two porters loaded the trunks that had been in cargo. Adam gave them each a half dollar and they grinned and tipped their caps. Soon they were off for Virginia City and then the Ponderosa, Giselle sitting between Ben and Adam, Ben taking the reins, and Becky sat in the back crowded in with the luggage.

And Ben was enamored by Lady Stockbridge but Adam was leery.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"She is lovely," Ben had said after they had delivered Lady Stockbridge to the Palace Hotel in Virginia City. It had taken both the desk clerk and Ben along with two boys hired off the street for a nickel each to take her luggage and trunks upstairs to her suite of rooms. Adam had leaned against the buggy and watched in amusement as Giselle looked down from her room's window. When they were ready to leave, Adam tipped his hat as he looked up at Giselle. She nodded and stepped away into the room.

Once they had arrived at Virginia City and then the hotel, the four of them, Becky dragging Lady Stockbridge's personal valise, entered the lobby. Ben told Tom, the desk clerk, to give Lady Stockbridge one of his finest suites. The desk clerk said that Lady Stockbridge had wired ahead for the rooms. Ben was surprised but Adam wasn't; nothing Giselle did would surprise him anymore. Ben informed Tom that he would pay the bill. Lady Stockbridge declined Ben's offer of generosity but Ben insisted. Adam crossed his arms and leaned against the counter; he wanted to fully enjoy the little scene played out before him.

"Since you won't take up my offer to stay at the Ponderosa," Ben told Giselle, "at least let me pay for your stay in Virginia City. You said that you'll be moving on to San Francisco eventually so be my guest while you're here."

"Oh, you're very kind, Mr. Cartwright, but really, I can't take advantage of you and allow you to foot my bill."

"The hell you can't," Adam muttered.

Giselle gave Adam an icy look and then turned her charms. "In the face of such masculine persuasiveness, how could I possibly say no? I don't think I could refuse you anything."

Adam rolled his eyes and cleared his throat but Giselle ignored him.

The desk clerk handed Lady Stockbridge her key and assured her that her rooms were ready "and," he added, "you already have mail." He smiled and handed her a large, full envelope which she took, thanking him with her most enchanting smile.

Adam was impressed. Giselle had been so certain of herself—or of him-that she had wired ahead for a suite of rooms and had a letter forwarded to herself. But there was more.

"Perhaps I could call on you sometime," Ben said before they left Lady Stockbridge's company. Giselle said that she would be delighted and then giving Adam a triumphant look, she went up the stairs to her suite.

"Every time I come home from a trip, I see more and more people I don't know and there are always new businesses popping up, new enterprises. I didn't recognize two dirt streets on our way in. You'd think Virginia City was the state capitol instead of Carson."

"Most of us think it should be. And you're right about the way we're growing. In the last month a new bank has sprung up and a pestilence of lawyers." Ben rotated his right shoulder as he sat on the carriage seat.

"Thought you were going to put your back out loading and unloading those trunks," Adam said to his father. He had taken the reins and they were now on their way home.

"Well I noticed that you didn't help." Ben rubbed his left shoulder and twisted his back slightly as he raised his arm.

"I didn't have anything to prove."

"What do you mean by that?" Ben asked sharply.

Adam laughed. "Nothing, Pa. And you're right—Lady Stockbridge is lovely."

"So, you met her on the train from Baltimore?"

"No. I met her in Baltimore."

"Is she married?"

"Not that I know."

"Oh—no Lord Stockbridge."

"Not that I could find."

"Why do you think she came to Virginia City?"

"I honestly don't know but I have my ideas."

"What? What do you think? Did she come here to be with you? I mean if you have any feelings for her, Adam, if there's something between you two, I'll be glad to…"

"Pa," Adam said, turning to look at his father, "you haven't yet asked me about the contract or about how business went. We made quite a bit of money but we have to get to work immediately on the timbering. All the line from the present terminus to the west coast will be built with our lumber if—and only if—we deliver. There's a clause on the bottom that limits our time of delivery. After that, we pay a fine for each day that we're late."

"Well, of course I'm interested in that."

Adam held both reins in his right hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Here. It's inside." Adam drove the horses in silence while his father pulled out the contract and read, lengthening his arms in front of him to be able to see the print. Adam couldn't blame his father for wanting to know about Giselle and Adam considered that he had been able to see a professional at work. With a few sidelong glances and slight movements of her hips and brief touches, Lady Stockbridge had won his father's heart. And Adam knew that he would have to be alert until he knew exactly what Giselle wanted.

It was after Ben came home a few nights later after spending the evening with Lady Stockbridge that Adam knew he had to step in.

Adam decided to wait up for his father; this was the second time in almost as many days that Ben had spent the evening in Virginia City squiring Giselle. After their first liaison, Ben had been glowing at breakfast and talked about the wonderful time they had and how he had introduced Giselle to many of the city's most important people when they came across them at the restaurant and then the ballet. And Giselle had charmed them all.

"She really is a most lovely and intelligent woman—a woman any man would be proud to be seen with. And she is so clever. I haven't enjoyed a woman's company so much in years."

Adam had said nothing, just continued to eat in silence while Hoss and Joe asked for details; they were pleased to see their father so full of life and so happy even if he had come in late. Usually, when he was shirted on sleep, he growled like "old grizzly" as Hop Sing put it, but this morning he was energetic.

Because their father had been so happy, Hoss and Joe were baffled as to why Adam was sitting up waiting for their father to return from town after being with Lady Stockbridge.

"How come you're so against Pa taking a woman to dinner and the opera?" Hoss asked as he was ready to go upstairs, Joe ahead of him.

"I never said I was against it," Adam calmly replied, never looking up from his book.

"Well, you're waiting up for him," Joe said. "Pa's had experience with all sorts of women; why do you think this one's different?"

Adam made no response, just continued to read, turning the page.

Once they were in the upstairs hall, Hoss tugged Joe's arm. "What you think, Joe? What's goin' on?"

Joe looked puzzled. "Well, Pa's out with that woman again, that Lady Stockbridge who came in from Baltimore with Adam the other day. Pa got all fancied up for her and took the carriage out to town. He said he was taking her to Piper's Opera House—some Italian named opera."

"Yeah." Hoss said. "Them operas always got funny names and they do all that singing that nobody can understand anyway."

"Yeah, well, I heard Adam tell him that he should be careful with her and Pa said that he was old enough to take care of himself. He had already had a father to school him and didn't need Adam watching out for him. Then Adam said that Pa hadn't met anyone like that Lady Stockbridge before and Pa just grinned and said that no, he hadn't and was glad he finally had. And guess what?"

"What?" Hoss asked.

"Pa's picking up her hotel tab and it's going to be big. The other day when Adam and I were in town—and I heard this from Tom himself—I found out she orders all sorts of fancy food and Pa may not be the only man she's seeing." Joe looked knowingly at Hoss.

Hoss scowled. "Adam usually knows what he's talkin' 'bout. If he says Pa should look out—well, then Pa should. Think I'll go sit up with Adam." And Hoss headed back downstairs.

Joe sighed. "I'll go with you. Matter of fact, I'll give you a chance to win at checkers; that should keep us busy 'til dawn."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Adam knocked firmly on Lady Stockbridge's hotel room door; she needed a firm hand, he considered and he was just the one to take her by the neck and shake some sense into her—or kiss some sense into her and then…he stopped himself from thinking further, imagining further. He had to keep his distance from the seductive Giselle.

The issue of what was to be done with Lady Stockbridge needed to be foremost in his mind—not her soft, yielding lips and her eyes that promised him pleasures. Adam was determined. When his father had finally come in around 1 am last night, Hoss was asleep on the settee, his head thrown back and snoring deeply. Joe sat playing solitaire and with the accompanying sound of the slapping of the cards, Adam stared into the fire having given up on reading. Then they heard the sound of buggy wheels and Joe and Adam exchanged glances. Adam picked up his book and Joe continued with his solitaire hand. Hoss continued to sleep.

"Well, so my sons wait up for me like I'm a small boy." Ben said when he came in. He pulled off his hat and loosened his tie. "Well, Joseph, since you're still up, go put the buggy and the horse away."

Joe threw his cards down and looked to Adam who raised his brows. "Yes, sir." He went out thinking he could be sleeping instead of having to play stable boy this time of night..

"Hoss!" Ben said, slapping his middle son on the arm. Hoss awoke startled, and Ben told him to go to bed. Hoss gratefully staggered up the stairs and Adam closed his book and placed it in the table.

"Did you have a nice time?"

"Yes," Ben said. "I had a wonderful time. Giselle is the most enchanting woman I've ever met."

"So it's Giselle now, not Lady Stockbridge."

"Yes." Ben paced a few steps back and forth. "You know, Adam, I have to admit—even though I've been around and have known—actually, quite a few women of various types, I'm smitten with her but I can't help but wonder why you weren't. Or were you?" Ben stopped and looked at Adam.

"Lady Stockbridge—or Giselle, if you prefer," Adam said, "is entertaining to know and a pleasure to behold but she wants something, what, I don't know-and I don't trust her."

"You don't trust anyone, Adam—I haven't decided if that's a boon or a detraction but you haven't answered my question; are you smitten with her, taken her to your heart?"

Adam sat and thought, not about what he felt—he knew what he felt—but what he should say to his father. "She…intrigues me. I also need to tell you that she and I…well, we've been intimate."

Ben sat down. He nodded." I suspected as much. But you're not in love with her?"

"No, I'm not."

"What would you say if I told you that I'm in love with her?" Ben looked at Adam.

Adam's answer was a sharp intake of breath. "You can't be serious."

"No," Ben chuckled. "I'm not in love but I could easily fall in love with her. There's something about her that touches my heart."

"I'm sure that's not all she's touched." Adam stood up and Ben's brows shot up. "But as you said, you've been around and I have to trust that by now you can tell the difference between a woman who wants to use you and one who truly cares for you."

Ben smiled. "I know Giselle isn't I love with me and I know she's calculating. But I have a feeling that there's a story there. Everyone responds to kindness and affection and Giselle, she's no different. I think she's been hurt and all she needs is to know that she's safe and secure"

"Sure, Pa, but what makes her safe and secure is money and power—she thrives on power over men. And as I said, she wants something but won't yet show her hand—she's just waiting," Adam said. He turned and slowly walked up the stairs to his room; he felt weary. But he had made up his mind; the next day he would ask Hiram, their lawyer, to send a wire to the police in Baltimore and then he would see Giselle and tell her to leave Virginia City.

Becky opened the hotel room door. "Good morning, Mr. Cartwright," she said.

Adam pushed open the door and Becky stepped back, her eyes wide.

"Where's Lady Stockbridge?"

"Sir, Lady Stockbridge is expecting company."

"Giselle," he called out, ignoring the girl, and then stopped. From the bedroom came Giselle. She was dressed like a man only her trousers were cut to fit her hips. The jacket was slightly fitted, and the man's shirt was open almost to her waist; she wore no chemise. The shirt cuffs were closed with pearl cufflinks and she wore a thick, leather belt that cinched in her waist. But despite the male attire, her lips and cheeks were rouged red as blood and her hair was piled loosely on the top of her head. To Adam, Giselle seemed more desirable with the shocking contrast between the masculinity of her clothing and the blatant sexuality of her stance, figure and expression than if she had been dressed in her full, elegant, feminine regalia.

"Adam, how very nice to see you but you really should send up first to see if I'm available instead of just forcing your way in here."

Adam kicked the door shut behind him and Becky's eyes grew wide with apprehension. She looked back and forth between her mistress and the cowboy and knowing Lady Stockbridge as well as she did, Becky noticed the slight look of fear on her mistress' face; Lady Stockbridge was unsure of herself.

"Leave," Adam ordered Becky, only giving her a quick glance.

"Yes, sir," she said and scuttled to the bedroom, standing just inside the door to listen. This was unusual; no one spoke to Lady Stockbridge this way since her favors would be denied them if they did—well, no one except that big man with the mustache who smoked those cigars as thick as his thumb but that was because, as Lady Stockbridge explained to her, he had no desire for women like her—he wanted to pay two bits for a woman in the alley and be finished and gone in a few minutes.

"Is there something I can do for you, Adam?" Giselle reached for the cigarette box but Adam grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him.

"Stay away from my father," he said, his face close to hers.

"Tell your father to stay away from me," she practically spat at him.

Adam stared down at her face, usually so confident but her jaw was clenched and her mouth was tight.

"Turn him away—tell him to leave. Then move on. You want to go to San Francisco? I'll give you the money. Pack up and leave today." He released her and Giselle stepped back and rubbed her wrist.

"Are you jealous, Adam? Is that it?" She smiled knowingly.

"No, I'm not jealous—why would I be jealous of losing you since I never paid any money to have you?"

The smile dropped from her face. "Get out, Adam. Get out or I'll scream. People will wonder why I'm screaming and a horrible scandal will start."

Adam laughed, not because he was amused but because he had allowed himself to be overcome with emotion in her presence. He was jealous—so jealous that it ate at him, was tearing him apart and he was also afraid for his father. Adam knew that his father was experienced; he had had three wives and known many women but Adam was sure that his father had never met up with anyone like Giselle.

"What do you want, Giselle? Tell me. Tell me or I'll report you for prostitution. They'll throw you out on your firm little ass and Becky too. Then what will you do? Go to one of the houses? Get a job where any stinking cowboy with a half dollar in his pocket can enjoy your many charms?"

"I wouldn't put it past you—but I haven't asked for one penny from you or your father. You have no proof to back up your slander; your claim would be nonsense."

Adam grinned; Giselle was on the run. "Don't tell me that those clothes aren't at someone's special request? It didn't take you long to drum up business, did it, Giselle? You haven't asked my father for money because you have other men paying, don't you? Now whose taste runs to young boys? Hmmm? Who likes to lick the boots of a young, beautiful boy? You're dressed the part, Giselle."

"Get out!" she ordered but Adam stood and smiled at her and she became angrier. He was defying her and no one did that. There was a knock on the door and Becky crept out of the bedroom.

"Shall I get it, Miss?"

"Let me," Adam said and he opened the door and a short man in a black bowler whom Adam had never seen before stood on the other side. When he saw Adam he blanched and stepped back.

"She's all yours," Adam said to him. "For the right price, that is." He glanced back at Giselle. "Be gone tomorrow," he told her. But Adam stopped; there was something in her expression—a hint of vulnerability and the anger and frustration he felt toward her melted away.

"Please, come back in a few hours," she said quietly. "I'll explain."

Adam paused and then nodded. He put on his hat and without another glance at the man in the hall, he walked out. He considered he would have a beer at the Sazarac, maybe play a game of poker if anyone had a game going, stop by Hiram's office to see if the wire had been answered, and then he would return. And Adam examined how he was feeling, what was causing the pit of his stomach to twist. It was Giselle with another man. "Damn fool," he called himself. "You want to be special to her, for her to love you—as if she even has a heart."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Adam held Giselle in his arms and she sighed, contented. He had wanted to ask her about her relationship with his father, how far it had gone, if he was lying where his father had been the night before but suppressed it. He didn't want to give anything away to Giselle although he was sure she knew how he felt; after all, she had accused him of jealousy and although he had tried to remain unresponsive, he knew how well Giselle read men. Adam had tried to remain emotionally unreadable as they tussled in her bed but Adam was sure that something must have shown through when he lost control in his desire for her.

When Adam had stalked to the hotel room, he was determined to have it out with Giselle—to send her packing although the wire from the constable in Baltimore revealed nothing; apparently Giselle—Lady Stockbridge—had no past. She hadn't been involved in any noteworthy incident. But Adam wondered if Giselle had been involved in anything under her actual name for Adam still believed that Lady Stockbridge was an alias.

Becky let Adam in and then promptly left the room. Giselle was now in a silky dressing gown and Adam secretly wished she had still been in her former male attire; she was fetching in it. On the low table was white wine, foie gras on ice and thin toast triangles waiting for him, the tab for which, Adam knew, his father was paying. Virginia City was becoming sophisticated, Adam considered, for the hotel to have access to French imports. Nevertheless, Adam ate sparingly while Giselle was her most charming self, allowing her gown to drop open and show her shapely legs crossed at the thighs while she sat opposite him in the sitting room.

Giselle had handed Adam a telegram that she said had come that morning; it was from a man named Vance Beauchamp. In it, he said that he would make one last offer for the letters and if she still refused to sell them, she would suffer the consequences. Adam refolded the paper and sat back. Giselle was watching him closely.

"The letters he wants were in the envelope you had mailed ahead, weren't they?"

"Yes. I couldn't take a chance that they would be stolen; I half expected a train robbery."

"This Beauchamp, he's the one I saw with you in the restaurant in Baltimore." Giselle nodded. "And he's the agent for an important man." Giselle nodded again. Then she rose and went into the bedroom, returning with the envelope that she had sent ahead and handed it to Adam. He opened it and pulled out a total of twelve letters, scanning them; all professed love and insatiable desire for Giselle and the promise that he would divorce his wife so they could be together forever. And all had the same letterhead; Clarence M. P. Hotchkiss, Esq. and all were signed, "Yours forever, Clarence."

"He wants the letters back," Giselle said.

"I daresay he would." Adam put the letters back into the envelope and placed it on a table. "He wants to run for mayor of Baltimore and it wouldn't do if these letters showed up, now would it? After all, what would his wife say? So, are you blackmailing him?" Adam leaned back comfortably.

"No, I'm not although he has through Beauchamp, offered to buy them."

"So why not sell them?"

"Because once he has the letters, I'm still here, aren't I? Hotchkiss threatened me the last time he visited me. He said that nothing, especially some insignificant woman was going to block his political career and if I didn't give him the letters, I would regret it. He implied they weren't worth dying over and hoped that we could reach a satisfactory price for their acquisition. So you see, I have to look out for my life and therefore, I placed the two most damning ones in a safe deposit box in the Virginia City National Bank. I have authorized that you also can retrieve them-just in case something should anything happen to me."

"I'm honored," Adam said sarcastically. "Let me guess, in those two letters he has special requests—unsavory ones?-for you to perform when he arrives." Giselle nodded. "What does my father have to do with all this?"

"Not just your father, you as well. I need the two of you to be here when I meet with Beauchamp tomorrow afternoon. I need you two due to your reputations in Virginia City and beyond, to be here when I ask Beauchamp to put in writing that I will remain safe. I fear for my life, Adam, and I need the protection of you and your father. No one would doubt your word if you are the witnesses to what passes between us. And I will let Beauchamp also know about the letters in the bank, that if anything happens to me, the letters are given to the Baltimore Sun to be published. That's what I would like you to do."

"I see," Adam said. "So you want both my father and me here tomorrow to meet with Beauchamp and you."

"Yes," she said.

"And you've told me father about this mess that you want to now mire us?"

Giselle smiled. "No, I haven't. If you would bring him tomorrow...I notice that you don't have any wine, Adam. I thought you preferred white wine to rosé."

"Giselle, I have to keep a clear head around you. Coffee would be preferable."

Giselle laughed, delighted, and stood up. "I think this will better clear your head." Giselle stood up and the robe dropped from her pale white shoulders and pooled around her feet.

"Oh, yes. The blood is rushing away from my head," he said. And Giselle laughed delightedly as Adam, grinning, stood up and pulled her to him. She was, he conceded, irresistible.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Pa, she's using both of us. I can't believe you can't see it!" Adam paced back and forth while his father sat calmly in his favorite chair.

"Adam, I'm not a fool. Giselle's afraid. When I went to see her this evening, she told me about Beauchamp and how frightened she was of him. And yes, before you ask—I know about her affair with Hotchkiss and I don't hold it against her"

Adam thought before he spoke and decided to go ahead. "Pa, I think she's taking…patrons."

"What do you mean?"

Adam laughed disdainfully. "I think she's entertaining other men—for money." Adan refrained from telling his father about the man he saw at Giselle's door when he was leaving and how she was obviously dressed to his specifications in a male outfit. "Do you really want to become entangled with her, a man of you age and good reputation?"

Ben paused. "It's my reputation that will save her and if she is, as you say, taking patrons…well, do you have proof of that? And what if you do? What will you do with it? Ruin her?"

"No, Pa," Adam chose to say," I don't have proof. I'm just guessing, that's all. All right, we'll both go to town tomorrow and meet with Giselle and Beauchamp."

"I think that's for the best."

Adam began to go upstairs but looked back and saw his father gazing into the flames. "You aren't in love with her, are you, Pa?"

"What?" Ben turned to Adam.

"Pa, I've asked you before-are you in love with Giselle?"

"No, no, I'm not but I do care what happens to her. Don't you, Adam?"

Adam made a sound of frustration. "I suppose I do but then no more than I would any other woman on her own." Adam noticed his father's amused look. "All right—I do care and it's more than I should. Giselle does manage to work her way into your heart."

Ben smiled. "Goodnight, Adam." Ben went back to looking at the dancing flames. He knew that Giselle didn't love him but she made him feel young and vital and she brought such pleasure to him. He couldn't tell Adam about how Giselle had pleased him—and Ben was certain that Adam and Giselle had a special relationship separate and wholly different from his and Giselle's; Giselle was too much of a business woman not to have tried to entangle Adam from the beginning. And Adam was far too much of a sportsman not to have enjoyed the game when it was afoot.

Giselle, Ben, Adam and Mr. Beauchamp sat in the suite's sitting room. Giselle had introduced both the Cartwrights as friends and that they were there to guide her in case something was beyond her understanding. Adam suppressed a smile; he had concurred long ago that not much was beyond Giselle's understanding. She was clever and sharp and had carefully planned the whole encounter.

Mr. Beauchamp, Adam could tell from his accent alone, was from the lower English classes having a crude accent. He was a large man who obviously enjoyed his sausages and Cornish pasties. But he did have one thing in common with the upper classes; he liked his cup of tea and Giselle had arranged the meeting around four in the afternoon. Giselle already had both coffee and tea along with small cakes waiting for them.

"Tea, Mr. Beauchamp?" she asked.

"Yes, mum. Don't mind if I do. Always like a good cuppa 'bout this time."

Giselle smiled and holding a strainer over his cup, poured him tea. "Sugar? Lemon? Cream?"

"I could use a little sugar and lemon in my tea—a bit of the sour and the sweet." Beauchamp laughed and Giselle smiled indulgently. She used the tongs and dropped a sugar cube into Beauchamp's' cup and then stabbed a slice of lemon with a small fork and put it in the cup as well.

"I hope it's to your liking, Mr. Beauchamp," she said as she handed the cup and saucer to him. "It's a specialty tea from India; it has cinnamon and a touch of cardamom; the spices enhance virility. You sure you won't have any, Adam?"

Adam looked at Giselle, well aware that her comment was a tease. "No, I prefer coffee." Adam couldn't help but grin as Beauchamp tasted the tea, declared it delicious and said that he was sure he would have a second cup. "I'm so glad you like it," Giselle said. "Please feel free to help yourself."

Being the genteel hostess, Giselle poured both the Cartwright men coffee, adding cream and sugar to Ben's as was his preference. Then while her guests were drinking and Beauchamp helped himself to the little cakes, Giselle poured herself a cup of tea, not letting her back touch the chair back as a proper lady was taught to do while she sipped the tea.

"Now, Mr. Beauchamp," she said, "I have the letters for you that you requested. I have asked the Cartwrights here to be witnesses. I hope you don't mind. It isn't that I don't trust you, it's just that it's such messy business."

"Good, good," Beauchamp said, pulling out his handkerchief and patting his brow. Adam noticed that he was sweating profusely and that he ran a finger inside his collar as if he was uncomfortable. "That makes things so much easier, it does. I 'ate to quarrel with a pretty woman but Mr. Hotchkiss, well he expects me to come back with them letters, he does; he's paid me for a job and I won't give leave until I done it." Beauchamp reached into his pocket and pulled out a narrow envelope. "I got money for you-it's what 'e promised you."

Giselle went into the bedroom and came out with the large envelope. "Here are the letters, Mr. Beauchamp."

Beauchamp put down one of the cakes he was about to eat and wiped his fingers on a napkin. He reached for the letters and Giselle pulled them back.

"I believe a price was discussed." Ben was leaning back, his legs crossed, watching the transaction carefully and Adam watched Giselle.

Beauchamp handed the envelope of money to Giselle. "All there, righty-right—just what you asked for. Go ahead and count it."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Beauchamp. More tea." Giselle smiled graciously.

Adam watched Giselle closely; he knew she was up to something other than the innocuous exchange of the letters for money. So Adam watched her smile and be pleasant but he also saw below her pleasant exterior that she was anxious. Yet she played the hostess to perfection

"Don't mind if I do," Beauchamp grinned after looking into the envelope and seeing the letters; he tucked them in the pocket where the money had been. Giselle again held the strainer over his cup while Giselle poured him more tea. Things were going well, Beauchamp thought. He was happy. Hotchkiss would give him the thousand dollar bonus for his success.

Beauchamp complained that he was tired and left to go to his room and Ben was reluctant to leave but Adam sat, waiting as Giselle told Ben goodbye and thanked him for coming.

"Now if Beauchamp bothers you, I mean he's staying in the same hotel, send your maid for Sheriff Roy Coffee. He's a family friend and he'll take care of you." Ben glanced at Adam who was lounging in one of the upholstered chairs, his long legs crossed at the ankles. "You coming, Adam?"

"I'll be along shortly," Adam said. "Head on home but tell Hop Sing not to hold dinner for me."

"All right, son," Ben said and started to leave. But then he stopped and leaned over and pulled Giselle to him with an arm around her waist. Ben kissed Giselle goodbye and Adam watched. And he wondered if it came down to either him or his father, which one Giselle would choose. Which one? Obviously, he decided, the one who could benefit her the most.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"You didn't tell Beauchamp about the letters in the bank," Adam said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"No, I didn't." Giselle walked over to the bedroom door. "Becky, come clear please." Becky came out and looked sideways at Adam; he frightened her with his dominant behavior. "You may have the leftover cakes, Becky. The rest you can dispose of." Becky thanked her and piled the pieces of china on a tray. Giselle sat down and watched Adam while he sipped his coffee.

"So," Adam said as he sat down the cup and saucer, "why not?"

"I saw no reason to tell him. But let's not talk about Beauchamp anymore or those letters." Giselle rose and walked over to Adam. "We can pass the time in more amusing ways."

"I don't think so," Adam said, standing up. "Have you heard of the snake charmers in India? Well they play a flute, a special tune and the cobra, a highly poisonous snake, rises up out of a basket and moves sinuously and dances for the flute—or is the charmer compelled to play the flute by the dancing snake? Who is actually under whose spell? Well, that's you, Giselle, except that you are both the charmer and the charmed." Giselle looked at him sharply. "You play the tune and we watch you dance before us, that supple, graceful body that bewitches us, that makes any man's blood heat up. My father and I have to continue playing the flute, so to speak, because we want to see you dance but it's exactly what you planned, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean, Adam?" Giselle tried to control her face, tried not to show any emotion.

"Yes, you do." Adam moved so close to her that he could have kissed her inviting lips. "And I also am sure that if I went to the bank to fetch your letters from Hotchkiss, I would be denied. You just wanted me to believe that you trusted me completely, that we were confidants but it wasn't true. That's why you never mentioned them to Beauchamp. You're saving them in case you need them-or you still plan to sell them or blackmail Hotchkiss with them. Very clever, Giselle."

"You give me far too much credit, Adam." She stepped back. His being so close and yet not under her influence upset her; she had known Adam wouldn't be as easily controlled as she hoped but she couldn't abandon him—his attraction for her was too strong.

"I didn't give you enough credit. Does Beauchamp have the actual letters, Giselle, or just a copy? He never really looked. Does he know Hotchkiss' handwriting? I'll go find out." Adam picked up his hat and went to the door. He turned and Giselle was watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Don't leave, Adam," she said. "I'll make it worth your while to stay."

Adam glanced back at Giselle and despite wanting to stay, he instead went out the door and down the stairs to Beauchamp's room. He knocked on the door and listened. He heard a groan and then fumbling on the other side of the door. The door opened and Beauchamp stood for a few seconds staring at Adam and then, reaching out, he fell into Adam's arms.

"He's dead," Paul Martin said. He stood up. Roy Coffee stood next to the body of Vance Beauchamp on the floor. Tom, the desk clerk, stood hovering in the background. Adam Cartwright had come racing down the stairs and told him to get the doctor and the Sheriff; Beauchamp in room 2A had collapsed.

"You say you were the last one to see him alive?" Roy asked. He looked down at the big man who lay dead on the floor. They had rolled him over so that Paul could better examine him.

"If you can call the moment before he dropped dead, alive, then yes, I was. But just a few minutes earlier he had tea with Lady Stockbridge, my father and me. What do you think, Paul?"

"Just let me ask the questions, Adam." Roy said. "How do you think he died, Doc?"

"Well, his lips are blue and so are his fingernails—cyanotic. That means he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs. That usually implies a heart condition."

Roy kneeled beside the body and opened Beauchamp's jacket and pulled out a cigar case. "Well, he smoked. With some people, that causes trouble with their hearts."

"Wait a minute," Adam said kneeling by the body and looking in the jacket pocket where Beauchamp had placed the envelope stuffed with letters; it was empty. He rose, stepped over the body and went into the hotel room. He looked around as it was small room, one floor below Giselle's. The man's suitcase was on a chair and Adam tossed the clothes out but found no envelope. He opened the drawers and searched them, looked in the bedding, pulling off the bed sheets and coverlet and then looked in the closet. It held no clothes. "Giselle," he said in a whisper, "you are a clever girl—very clever."

"Adam, what the hell are you doing?" Roy said. "I got enough trouble keeping the hotel guests away from this mess and causing trouble by poking around and here you go and tear up this room."

"I was just looking for something, Roy, but it's not here."

"Adam, just come on over to the office while the body's taken over to Doc's. I need you to give me a statement. I'll get one from your pa and Lady whatever-her-name-is later."

"Sure, Roy. I'll come now." And Adam, giving the room another glance, left.

"Yeah, and you can tell me what you were lookin' for." Roy said.

Adam gave his statement and then walked briskly to Paul Martin's office.

"Paul? You here?" Adam called out. Paul came out from the back, holding his hands out as if he didn't want to touch anything. Adam stared at him and puzzled, asked, "What's going on?"

"Well, I'm getting ready to slice open Beauchamp. Granted, he smoked those damnable cigars all the time…"

"Yes," Adam said. "He had yellow stains on the fingers of his right hand and his teeth were stained too. I'd say he smoked three or four a day if not more."

"You should be the doctor," Paul said, "because we diagnose by what we and the patient observe but in this case seeing that the patient's dead, it limits me." Paul smiled sardonically.

"I'll pass on being a doctor but you were saying…"

"Well, although I'm almost positive Beauchamp died of a heart attack, I could be wrong. Was he behaving unusual? Did he say anything unusual?"

"He was sweating but I think that was more due to his size—the first time I ever saw him, he was sweating and always pulling out his handkerchief. He also left earlier than we did; said he was tired."

Paul pondered the information for a few seconds. "Well. sometimes a bad heart is an inherited condition and sometimes the heart explodes—just has an artery burst but there's just something about this…I need to look at his heart and see if it's diseased or damaged in any way. I want to be sure before I write up the death certificate."

"Let me ask you something? You said that blue lips and nails means a person isn't getting enough fresh blood, oxygenated blood, into their body. What else could cause that?"

Paul thought. "Hypoxia can be caused by a few things—anemia, for one. If it's really bad the red blood cells are deficient and the person doesn't get enough oxygenated blood circulating. And in the big cities where they're installing gas lights, some people have died from breathing in the gas once the flame has gone out. The gas displaces the oxygen in the blood. They turn blue as well."

"So let me understand—anything that prevents oxygen from getting to the body parts, especially the heart, will of course, cause death and the symptoms are what you called being cyanotic."

"That's right. If I have a patient whose lips are bluish, I know it's their heart or lungs, but usually their hearts."

"Thanks, Paul," Adam said. "Go have fun slicing open Beauchamp. I'm curious as to what you'll find." Adam walked back to where his horse was tied up in front of the Palace Hotel and looked up to Giselle's rooms. No one stood at the window and he was tempted to go up; he wanted to see her but stopped himself. It was late, already dark and he wanted to get home but before he did, he needed to stop by the feed stores and the mercantilist's; he had some questions.

Two hours later, Adam rode out of Virginia City for home; He needed to have a persuasive talk with Hop Sing and he planned his strategic argument. Hop Sing often played dumb but Adam wasn't fooled by Hop Sing's bland face that hid a sharp mind when it came to ferreting out Adam's and his brothers' motivations. After all, he had helped raise them from boys. He knew his "sons" well and he wouldn't willingly play Adam's translator in Chinatown.


	10. Chapter 10 & Epilogue

**Thanks to all who have taken the time to read this to the end! Hope you enjoyed it.**

**Chapter 10**

Adam followed Hop Sing through the narrow, noisy, crowded streets of the markets of Chinatown. The noise was the result of loud bargaining between vendor and customer and one vendor cursing out another for intruding on their spots. Children ran the streets barefoot, laughing and playing while women cooked food on grills set up at the side of the streets. Everywhere was the smell of onions, garlic and ginger and the redolent odor of various meats. Finally, Hop Sing stopped in front of a small wooden shop.

"This place where they sell poison," Hop Sing said to Adam, his brow furrowed with worry. "See sign—say he have whatever person want." Hop Sing did not approve of Adam's quest and had been hard to convince; Adam said that if Hop Sing wouldn't go with him to Chinatown, he'd hire someone. At that, Hop Sing puffed up: "No one go with Mistah Adam but Hop Sing. Not trust other—might take money and run away." So in that way, Adam had managed to convince the Chinese cook to go with him.

Hop Sing pushed aside the curtain at the entrance into the small wooden building and stepped in; Adam had to stoop to enter the low door. It took a few second for his eyes to adapt; the inside was dark except for a small window covered by oiled paper.

A middle –aged Chinese man came out from the back and stood behind a counter. He smiled at Hop Sing but when he saw Adam his smiled disappeared. Hop Sing spoke to the man and the man answered gruffly.

"He say he not sell any poison for long time. He say he have no more have poisons in the shop."

"Let him know I'm not from the law—I don't care if he has poisons in the back or what he has. I just want to know if he sold any poison of any type to a young woman—a white woman with dark hair and dark eyes."

Hop Sing talked to the shop owner who asked Hop Sing if Adam wouldn't rather buy some powdered tiger testicles. Adam rolled his eyes. "Ask about the woman." Adam took out three silver dollars and held them up for the shop owner to see. Hop Sing asked. The shop owner looked suspiciously at the money and then put out his hand. Adam placed one silver coin in it and the man closed his fist around it and slipped the coin in his pocket and spoke.

Hop Sing turned to Adam. "Him say no woman but young man come buy poison. He say that Chinese boy, small boy with bag of sugar candy, speak English little bit and he come with young man—young, slender man dressed with nice clothes-expensive. He want poison—say he have rats in kitchen of house. Need to kill rats. Shop owner sell poison but only to kill rats."

The shop owner held his chin up, his arms crossed on his chest.

"Ask him if he would recognize the young man if he saw him again." Hop Sing did as Adam asked and the shop keeper shook his head and spoke sharply.

"He say that young man keep hat down low—room not have much light. Not be able know again."

"I want to know what poison the young man bought. I want to buy a small amount of the same substance."

"Why you want poison?" Hop Sing asked. He didn't like this business.

"To show the doctor. Now ask. I'll pay the other two silver dollars for it."

Hop Sing translated and the shop owner stood, pensive. Then he beckoned and Hop Sing and Adam followed him to the back of the shop where there were endless shelves holding clay jars and glass vials with labels on them. The contents were described in Chinese symbols. Against one side wall, an old man who looked to Adam to be at least 200 years old, he was so thin and bony, lay on a low cot smoking what Adam was sure was opium. The old man glanced over with his hollow eyes and then closed them again, inhaling on his pipe.

The shop owner placed a small ceramic jar on a table. Adam reached for it but the man put out his hand. Adam dropped another silver dollar in it. He uncorked the jar and sniffed. It smelled bitter and slightly familiar; Hop Sing's almond cookies came to mind only there wasn't the fragrant odor of vanilla attached. And with the last silver dollar, Adam bought a small amount which the shop owner placed in a piece of paper that he folded into a packet.

"Paul, since Beauchamp's heart appeared healthy to you, what about this? What if he was fed some of this poison?"

Adam sat in Dr. Paul Martin's outer office. He handed the paper packet to Paul who placed it on his desk and slowly opened it. He stuck his finger into the powder and smelled it. "Where did you get this?"

"I bought it in Chinatown. Hop Sing was my guide. The Chinese make it, he told me, by grinding up peach and apricot pits, mixing it with water and then boiling it down and letting the concoction dry; it becomes these crystals."

"Cyanide. Yes, cyanide could produce the same symptoms and result in death—histotoxic hypoxia. But weren't you and your father with Beauchamp before he died? Are you saying Lady Stockbridge poisoned him?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know. I was just conjecturing—an intellectual exercise. And yes, my father and I were there." Adam stood up, told Paul goodbye and left. He mounted his horse and rode over to the Palace Hotel. He tied off the reins and went into the lobby and he had just put his hand on the newel post when Tom, the desk clerk called to him. Adam turned.

"If you're going up to see Lady Stockbridge, she's not here. She checked out last night and took the last stage out of town from what I understand. At least she asked me when the last stage left and she was gone in time to make it. It was the stage to San Francisco."

Adam chuckled. "Lady Stockbridge in San Francisco." He grinned to himself. As he mounted his horse, he told himself. "Well, I guess I'm off to San Francisco tomorrow."

**Epilogue**

"Hello, Giselle," Adam said after Becky had opened the door and he had walked past the young girl to see Giselle at a small desk, writing.

She turned and looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth slightly open and Adam was struck again by her beauty and desirability. She quickly recovered her wits and stood, gracefully arranging her skirts. Giselle smiled.

Adam stepped further into the room and Becky closed the door and without waiting to be told, Becky slunk off into another room.

"So you found me," Giselle said as she moved closer to Adam. He heard her skirts rustling as she walked or actually, as she seemed to float toward him. "Won't you sit?"

"Thank you," Adam said and pulled off his hat, tossing it on a chair. He adjusted his holster and sat on a large, elegant sofa. Giselle sat in the chair facing him.

"May I offer you some coffee or tea? Are you hungry? I can have some food sent up."

Adam chuckled. "I think not, Giselle—or should I say Lady Cartwright? Really, Giselle—so obvious."

"I knew it was a mistake but well, I indulged my passion for whimsy. Besides, if anyone wanted me, they would have asked for Lady Stockbridge so I couldn't go by that—I would have been far too easy to find."

"I did look for Lady Stockbridge and each hotel at which I asked said no, but the desk clerk here, he said that the only titled lady they had as a guest was Lady Cartwright. I knew then that I had found you-and I think that you really wanted me to find you; you knew, didn't you, that I would figure things out and come to you."

"I don't know what you're talking about but I'm flattered that you came looking for me."

"Don't be. I didn't come because my heart told me too—not quite so maudlin a reason as that. I don't find you so irresistible that I'd travel all the way just to get another taste of you although..." Adam looked her over and Giselle shifted in her chair; he made her uncomfortable with his appraising glance.

"Well, then why did you come?"

"You poisoned Beauchamp, didn't you?"

"Don't be silly—of course, I didn't. Why would I do something like that?"

"Oh, yes, you did. Of that, I'm certain." Adam leaned forward and Giselle watched him with narrowed eyes. "You were afraid of Beauchamp. After he turned the letters over to Hotchkiss, Hotchkiss would realize that all the letters weren't there—that you had withheld two of them, the two that you say are the most detailed about his perverse tastes. Hotchkiss would be furious with Beauchamp and Beauchamp would be furious with you—he would want to break your neck for making a fool of him and then he would come after you. You killed him all right."

"And how did I do that?" Giselle asked.

"The only way I can figure is the tea."

"That's ridiculous. I drank the very same tea—you saw me. Why, I even offered it to you. The tea couldn't be poisoned. You know I would never take the chance that you would drink it; I like you too much."

"I don't know any such thing. But I do know that the tea wasn't poisoned. I went through everything that was offered that afternoon. It wasn't the cakes—Becky ate those and it wasn't the sugar. My father had sugar in his coffee nor was it the cream. You and he both had cream. So it must have been the lemon slices. You see, Giselle, I think that you sprinkled cyanide crystals on the lemon slices. The spices in the tea as well as the sour of the lemon would have disguised the bitter flavor and the smell. You know I drink coffee—not tea-and that my father does as well and lemon doesn't go in coffee. You must have had tea with Beauchamp at some earlier time when he was badgering you for the letters and you knew he took lemon in his tea. And being British, he would have tea instead of coffee."

"That's interesting but you have really gone too far with your imagination, Adam. Where would I get—what was it? Cyanide?"

"Well, that would have had anyone else stumped. But when I investigated, I found that no one had bought rat poison at the feed stores or the mercantilist's—but then their rat poison is arsenic and arsenic takes some time to kill, even in great amounts; Beauchamp would have become sick and thrown up and taken a few days to die. Arsenic couldn't be used. So I thought of Chinatown. That's where I found out that a well-dressed young man bought cyanide crystals. Very clever, Giselle. You are clever but you see, Giselle, I saw you dressed as a young man—a very beautiful young man."

Giselle smiled serenely. "And I suppose that you have proof for your 'theory' because, Adam, that's all it is—a theory."

"No, Giselle, I have no proof. You have been remarkably clever. I do have to admit that I'm impressed. Why you even have my father and me as witnesses that you did nothing suspicious but behaved as a gracious hostess. You also know that people of different races have trouble differentiating between people of another race—it takes lengthy immersion with another culture in order to know one person from another of a different race. Hence whites say that all Chinese look alike and the inverse is also true-they believe we all look alike. Even if I had brought you in to the shop where you bought the cyanide and had you dressed up as a young man, the shop owner wouldn't have been able to identify you, especially if the sheriff lined you up with two or three other 'real' young men and then asked him to pick you out as I'm sure your lawyer would have insisted—it couldn't be done. You are fascinating," Adam said. Giselle said nothing, merely looked at Adam. "So tell, me, Giselle, are you going to blackmail Hotchkiss with the letters?"

"I don't have the letters. You saw me give them to Beauchamp."

"Yes, I did and I can swear that he seemed satisfied that he had the right letters but I can also swear that the letters weren't on his person—or in his room after he died; I searched. My guess is that when I went downstairs for help, you took the letters back. Have you rolled a dead man before, Giselle, or was that the first time? And I'm also sure that you have the most damning two letters in another safe deposit box-Lady Cartwright."

Giselle stood up. "If you're going to insult me and accuse me of murder, you can just leave."

"Come now, Giselle. I'm complimenting you; I am in awe. I thought I knew everything, that I knew your little game but I was wrong. You outsmarted me, Giselle. I willingly let myself be used as a pawn in your game and I find that—surprisingly erotic." Adam stood and moved closer to Giselle until they were face to face, so close that Adam could see her pupils widen with desire. He pulled her to him and kissed her with more passion than he had ever felt for a woman; she was his match—more than his match in some ways as she had known exactly how to play upon his desire for her, his desire for her lithe body and sharp mind. Giselle was exactly what he needed to excite him and keep his senses alert.

"Shall we, Adam?" Giselle softly asked, caressing his cheek. "One more time—for friendship's sake."

And Adam laughed deep in his throat. "Oh, yes. Let's do." And he bent slightly and swept Giselle up in his arms. He carried her into the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him. A little danger was the best aphrodisiac.

~ Finis ~


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